“Give me the jet, Micah, I can have a team there in two hours.”
“You’ve got it,” Cartwell said. “Let’s get this done.”
“We will,” Thorne said, and walked away, already on his phone.
3
The seizure on the bathroom floor lasted ninety seconds, with Twist holding Fenfang’s wire-plaited head in his lap and twice taking a bony elbow to the windpipe: like getting hit with a fire poker. Both jabs hurt, and when she finally went still and her eyelids fluttered, he croaked, “What’d you tell Singular? Are they coming?”
“I…What?” she said. Her eyes were cloudy, dazed. “How am I here?”
Odin, crouched to one side of her with the spit-soaked washcloth, looked back and forth between Twist and his sister, who’d held down the young woman’s legs, and said, “She didn’t make the call, okay? It’s not her fault.”
Shay said, “Hey! Odin! Singular murdered our friend. They tortured you, and you almost died. I don’t want to hear any crap about whose fault is whose. If she’s on their side, we’re gonna drop her in a ditch and keep going.”
“I am on
your
side,” she said softly.
Shay glared at the Chinese girl and held out her recovered knife. “Yeah? Who used my phone? Who tried to stab me?”
Cade and Cruz came crashing through the door, called back by Shay during the seizure. Fenfang struggled with her question and said, “I do not know about a knife. I would not hurt you; it is my promise. This must be Charlotte. I am Fenfang.”
Odin, his face reddening, tried again. “It’s like when that beaten-down Asian guy on File 12 says he’s Robert G. Morris of St. Louis—that’s who he is. Whether he exists as himself anymore, or they killed those memories, we don’t know. One thing we do know”—he touched the center of the young woman’s forehead—“Fenfang from Dandong is still here.”
Fenfang clasped his hand in gratitude. “Yes,” she said.
Twist said, “All right. But…who is Charlotte?”
Fenfang turned toward him. “I do not know. I know Charlotte. I know some things about her, but they are more facts than memories. Names…and many numbers…she is one hundred thirty-six pounds, her house is 524. I know her house security codes, her business security codes; she has passwords, she has telephone numbers.”
Odin took Shay’s phone out of her hands, found the last outgoing call, and showed it to Fenfang: “You know this number?”
She squinted at it and said, “I know the name with it: Cartwell.”
Twist said, “Cartwell is Singular’s CEO. She went right to the top.” Cade glanced at the door and said, “We gotta get out of here.”
“Yes, but not in two minutes,” Cruz said. “We have a little time before he could do anything.”
Twist said, “If she’s got all these security measures, if she’s talking to Cartwell, she’s probably one of Singular’s backers.”
“I do not know this Cartwell, only the number,” Fenfang said. “I know another important number has the name White. Another important number is Jackson. I know eight of these numbers with names.”
Cade opened his laptop. “Fenfang, give me those phone numbers.”
She was getting some strength back and pushed herself up on her elbows and rattled off a string of eight phone numbers. Cade typed them, and Odin went to stand over his shoulder. Odin asked, “Where are you?”
“Twenty-two Hornet,” Cade said.
Odin patted his shoulder. “Okay.”
A minute later, as Twist and Shay got Fenfang to her feet, Cade said, “That White number? That’s the office phone for Harry White, the U.S. Senate majority leader.”
“Shit,” Twist said.
“Got her,” Cade said. “Charlotte Coulter Dash…”
“Holy cats,” Twist said. “
Senator
Dash?”
“Yup,” said Cade, who was already skimming her Wiki page. “Charlotte Coulter Dash is the senior U.S. senator from New Mexico. Second-term Democrat, age forty-eight. Her husband, Huck Dash, ran a hedge fund called Hondo
“You’ve got it,” Cartwell said. “Let’s get this done.”
“We will,” Thorne said, and walked away, already on his phone.
3
The seizure on the bathroom floor lasted ninety seconds, with Twist holding Fenfang’s wire-plaited head in his lap and twice taking a bony elbow to the windpipe: like getting hit with a fire poker. Both jabs hurt, and when she finally went still and her eyelids fluttered, he croaked, “What’d you tell Singular? Are they coming?”
“I…What?” she said. Her eyes were cloudy, dazed. “How am I here?”
Odin, crouched to one side of her with the spit-soaked washcloth, looked back and forth between Twist and his sister, who’d held down the young woman’s legs, and said, “She didn’t make the call, okay? It’s not her fault.”
Shay said, “Hey! Odin! Singular murdered our friend. They tortured you, and you almost died. I don’t want to hear any crap about whose fault is whose. If she’s on their side, we’re gonna drop her in a ditch and keep going.”
“I am on
your
side,” she said softly.
Shay glared at the Chinese girl and held out her recovered knife. “Yeah? Who used my phone? Who tried to stab me?”
Cade and Cruz came crashing through the door, called back by Shay during the seizure. Fenfang struggled with her question and said, “I do not know about a knife. I would not hurt you; it is my promise. This must be Charlotte. I am Fenfang.”
Odin, his face reddening, tried again. “It’s like when that beaten-down Asian guy on File 12 says he’s Robert G. Morris of St. Louis—that’s who he is. Whether he exists as himself anymore, or they killed those memories, we don’t know. One thing we do know”—he touched the center of the young woman’s forehead—“Fenfang from Dandong is still here.”
Fenfang clasped his hand in gratitude. “Yes,” she said.
Twist said, “All right. But…who is Charlotte?”
Fenfang turned toward him. “I do not know. I know Charlotte. I know some things about her, but they are more facts than memories. Names…and many numbers…she is one hundred thirty-six pounds, her house is 524. I know her house security codes, her business security codes; she has passwords, she has telephone numbers.”
Odin took Shay’s phone out of her hands, found the last outgoing call, and showed it to Fenfang: “You know this number?”
She squinted at it and said, “I know the name with it: Cartwell.”
Twist said, “Cartwell is Singular’s CEO. She went right to the top.” Cade glanced at the door and said, “We gotta get out of here.”
“Yes, but not in two minutes,” Cruz said. “We have a little time before he could do anything.”
Twist said, “If she’s got all these security measures, if she’s talking to Cartwell, she’s probably one of Singular’s backers.”
“I do not know this Cartwell, only the number,” Fenfang said. “I know another important number has the name White. Another important number is Jackson. I know eight of these numbers with names.”
Cade opened his laptop. “Fenfang, give me those phone numbers.”
She was getting some strength back and pushed herself up on her elbows and rattled off a string of eight phone numbers. Cade typed them, and Odin went to stand over his shoulder. Odin asked, “Where are you?”
“Twenty-two Hornet,” Cade said.
Odin patted his shoulder. “Okay.”
A minute later, as Twist and Shay got Fenfang to her feet, Cade said, “That White number? That’s the office phone for Harry White, the U.S. Senate majority leader.”
“Shit,” Twist said.
“Got her,” Cade said. “Charlotte Coulter Dash…”
“Holy cats,” Twist said. “
Senator
Dash?”
“Yup,” said Cade, who was already skimming her Wiki page. “Charlotte Coulter Dash is the senior U.S. senator from New Mexico. Second-term Democrat, age forty-eight. Her husband, Huck Dash, ran a hedge fund called Hondo
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